


And He Told Me We Are What's Not Possible To Be

by Colourhimwonderful



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, Fear, First Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourhimwonderful/pseuds/Colourhimwonderful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis doesn't do relationships, because he isn't careful enough, and so of course the one time something turns up that's so very not a relationship, it turns into one anyway. And suddenly, it's hard to breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And He Told Me We Are What's Not Possible To Be

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over a month, maybe? In the beginning it really only served as a way to kill time in between shifts. It's been a while since I actually wrote, and well, it was nice, to complete it. But yes, this is for you, I suppose. I do hope you like it. xx

It's a Tuesday in the coffee shop and Louis feels a lot like he's going to break. Tuesdays are, for all intents and purposes, just another day of the week, however this particular Tuesday has seen twenty five absolutely daft fifteen - something girls and he's heard enough of their chavvy boyfriends and GCSE anxiety, thanks very much. It's five minutes till' close and he just wants to be home right now, so as the bell signals another customer, he kind of wants to tear it down and slice his throat open with it as he goes. And if his blood stains the coffee machine then at least it won't be of his concern anymore.

"Y'alright" comes a voice from behind him. It’s a croaky and raspy, and so, so husky that Louis’ overcome with a slight need to see if this stranger is as fit as he sounds. He deposits the cloth in his hands on the counter and turns around. 

Before him stands a boy with curls on his head and sleep in his eyes and oh, the greenest pair of those he's ever seen. Well fuck, he thinks. He’s okay with the doorbell, really. It can stay where it wants, and Louis will refrain from an attempted death insofar as this boy in front of him just doesn’t leave. Ever.

"I – Can I help you?" He asks, eyes glued to his customer. He's taller than Louis, Louis decides. More muscular, with an impossibly wide throat and large hands playing with the granola bars on the counter top and Louis thinks he hasn't ever seen anyone this attractive, even as he's being honest about it.  
"M' hungry" says Big Hands in reply. Louis blinks at him. "You're hungry?" He repeats slowly, "So you should eat something".  
"Yes", the boy agrees. "But what should I eat?" he asks with a lazy smile. It's not supposed to intrigue him, Louis doesn't think. He's almost certain this person is taking the piss.   
"Me", he replies before he can stop himself, though, because that head-cocked- to - the side thing Big Hands has got going on is quite distracting. Big Hands' eyes snap up from where they've been tied to the sandwiches behind the glass display, wide and – well that's a reaction Louis can file away and cherish.   
"What?" He sputters, looking a lot like a fourteen year old. "I - I heard you right, didn't I? You said that didn't you?"  
"You said you were hungry, though" Louis says innocently, voice shaking with suppressed mirth, because it's absolutely hilarious that this boy, this walking advertisement for marathon sex is kicked into innocence by a bad joke. It's also fantastic that he managed to get him flustered.   
"Well yes – but – what if I'm into girls?" Big Hands says incredulously. "Gays don't grow on trees or anything. Neither do people that would actually consent to these things, come to that."  
"Then this would be a fine opportunity for me to find out, wouldn't it?" says Louis with a shrug. It's not a lie and Louis will admit to curiosity, he will.  
Big Hands nods as if fair enough and takes a step back, giving Louis a once over. Louis wants to look down and suddenly feels like his arms are too long for his body.  
"Eat you?" Big Hands asks with one eyebrow arched and Louis has to bite his lip to keep from pouncing just from the way this angel's white teeth are sinking into the red skin of his lips. "That's an honest proposal?"  
"Well if you wouldn't mind", he says. "You're quite pretty, you know".   
"Pretty?" The boy frowns. If Louis didn’t want him so much right now, he would be laughing. "Pretty?"  
"Beautiful" Louis grins, despite himself. He's still got it in him to be a shit "Honestly".  
"And you wouldn't - like - get in trouble or anything?" The boy asks seriously. Louis' sure he notices Louis' eyes widen hopefully (really, how lucky would he be if this bright beam of perfect got on his knees for him?)  
"Well", he says, grabbing his keys off the hook behind the counter. We've shut", He says as turns the lock and flicks the light switch. He turns to lean against the door, only to find his company a lot closer to him than he was a second ago. His breath stutters involuntarily. Up close, Louis notices the wetness on the boys' lips, and the slight flush in his cheeks. And if he so wished he could probably count each and every one of the lashes framing his eyes.  
"'ve got a room in the back", he murmurs.  
"Fuck the back", the boy whispers, his lips brushing against Louis' own and Louis will be damned if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing.

000

Ten minutes later, Louis is still trapped between the door and Big Hands –Harry, apparently – and it's with startling clarity that he realises that this is a glass door they're steaming up.  
"Back" he mumbles. "People can see."  
"Don't care", Harry mumbles against his throat, sucking at the skin between his lips at the end of the word. "Just want you".  
The flash of heat that rushes to Louis groin then is so painfully strong that he tips his head back against the glass and groans. "Fuck, you – you can't just say shit like that". He breathes out. "No one says shit like that in real life". They're not even out of their T- shirts but Louis' already a bit too gone.  
"Why not?" Harry asks, his face level with Louis'. "I'm honest", he says. Louis' pretty sure he's trying to sound innocent, but the effort falls flat because there's just nothing innocent about the strain in his voice or the swelling of his lips. The rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blown out pupils of his eyes. "Fuck just – " Louis tries, but has to stop when he feels a large hand trail down his chest.   
"Just what?" Harry breathes into his ear.  
"Fucking –" Louis chokes out, throbbing where his jeans are straining against his erection. He squeezes his eyes shut because this is too much, too good, and it's all going too fast.  
"Fucking what?" Harry purrs, his hand cupping Louis' bulge.  
"Yes", Louis almost sobs, as he presses into the touch. He's willing to bet the sweet heat of Harry's hand is better than anything he's ever felt against him.  
"Mmm", Harry moans appreciatively. "You like that?" He asks, a sole finger tracing Louis' outline with delicious pressure. Louis hits his head against the door as he keens loudly in response.  
"Please" He pleads; he's so desperate he's shaking. "Fucking fuck me".  
"Yeah", Harry grinds out through gritted teeth. "Yeah, later"

He leaves a trail of kisses around Louis collarbones before he goes down, dragging that heat along as he goes. Lower down, licking into his belly button and it startles a giggle out of Louis, it's so cute. Further he goes, soft lips dragging against Louis' too hot skin. He doesn't register much that doesn't have to do with Harry and his lips, but he can vaguely feel the fast rise and fall of his chest. It's hard to concentrate on breathing when Harry's breath is ghosting around his bulge, and he just can't look away. Harry catches his gaze then, before he bites at Louis' chinos and pops the two buttons that hold them into place. Louis can't thank himself enough for choosing a pair trousers free of a zipper.

"You all right up there?" Harry asks with a toothy grin, nose nudging the skin just above the waistband of Louis' boxer briefs.  
"Dick" Louis hisses, wishes that nose was lower down because, that would almost be something.  
"That's not very polite". Harry says casually. "Might reconsider sucking yours, actually". 

It's an empty threat, proven as tugs at the black material and lets the garment fall to the black tile floor. He dodges the pop up of Louis' cock and Louis wishes he hadn't because he just needs Harry to touch him right now. Harry's eyes widen slightly as he takes a good look. He offers Louis an appreciative nod as if nice dick, mate and Louis groans impatiently because he honestly couldn't care less of anyone's opinion on it unless it's of the way it feels in their mouth.  
"Are you going to take a picture or can we get going?" He spits out. Harry laughs throatily against him and it sends hot breath around the head of him. He keens embarrassingly and arches into no touch at all and it's so frustrating that he doesn't know what to do with himself. 

And then suddenly, he feels wet lips on his head, gives the glass another hard bump as Harry sucks and sucks and fuck it's so good, but it's just not enough.  
"Please" he sobs out. "Please I need – fuck". Harry consents then, breathes steadily through his nose and takes Louis inch by inch, his tongue hot at the underside of Louis' cock. Louis can't help the moan that escapes him, and Harry hums around him like it's doing it for him. Like he loves these sounds that Louis just can't control. He takes another inch, fingers squeezing the back of Louis' thighs and Louis' so impossibly hot all over that he doesn't understand how he can get hotter still as he feels the back of Harry's throat. Harry goes up, sucking on the upstroke, and then all the way back down. Louis can feel the burn in his bones, and it's numbing and he arches off the door and forces himself further into Harry's mouth. Harry's head tips back involuntarily and he groans filthily around Louis' member, sending all kinds of sweet vibrations up his shaft. "Mmm", he moans, squeezing Louis thighs, urging him on. Asking for more. "Mmm" 

Louis lets another groan break the silence as he bucks into the hot pressure of Harry's mouth, pulls back out and in again. He risks a glance downwards, finds Harry's eyes shut and his cheeks flushed bright red, and he has to look away because he needs this to last. In and out he goes, fucking Harry's mouth, his breath too loud in the silence and the heat in his belly so close to bubble over. This – this is so much better than anything he's ever had. He's never had this, never had someone so impossibly desperate for him or so willing to pleasure him because it pleasures them and he doesn't ever want this to end. But then suddenly, like he's had too much of the good stuff or something, Harry slams a large hand against his midriff, forces him back against the door. He's not going to cry, but he feels like he's going to fall to pieces without the steady intervals of Harry's heat around him.   
"No", he keens out, just as Harry takes him all the way one last time, swallowing around him. Louis groans so loudly it's almost a scream as his sight goes white and he spills into Harry's throat, shaking violently with his fists clenched along his sides. Around him, Harry gives a muffled cry and Louis looks down just in time to find Harry jerking himself to his release, shooting messily all over the door and Louis' ankle. Louis slides down the door and onto the floor, resting his head against Harry's as he feels his sweaty curls against his chest.  
"Fuck", he mumbles breathlessly, body still tingling sweetly. "Fuck that was -"  
"Amazing", Harry finishes in a mumble. "Fuck, you – you're the hottest thing I've ever seen".  
Louis huffs a laugh, "you must have seen plenty of 'em though".  
"I have", Harry admits, pecking a sweat bead on Louis chest. "No one like you though".

It's probably not supposed to make his chest swell with something like pride and a bit of... feelings? But it does. He takes the younger boys' face in his hands, sparing a moment of just looking at him, before he covers his lips with his own, his hands running through the mop of hair on Harry's head before he pulls back, Harry's lower lip still caught between his own. "You were – you were perfect though", he mumbles. "Absolutely perfect". Harry looks down then, smiling in earnest, and Louis can't get over how beautiful he is like this. All sexed out and relaxed and happy. "M'not" he whispers through his smile.   
"You are though", Louis giggles a bit, because this is actually a bit ridiculous. They're a bit ridiculous, yeah.  
"I – erm" Harry says, clearing his voice. "Can this, not be a one time – " he stops again, staring nervously at Louis navel. "Can I just not leave?"   
Louis blinks for a moment, then bumps Harry's forehead with his nose. He can't stop the smile that's literally just growing on his face.  
"No, no you're not allowed to leave", he says. "I won't let you".  
Harry smiles back at him before he climbs up higher to kiss him at a better angle.

And if the people see them in passing on the street, then Louis' not going to hide this new, perfect discovery of his.

000

"Against the door?!"

Liam is a good friend of Louis', has been so for the better part of his life, but he's never been quite as – erm – open – to sex as Louis is when he really wants it. On any other day, Louis would laugh at him, or go for a fond tug of his cheeks. But today's not that day, because it's imperative that Liam hears the rest of his story, so Louis huffs in annoyance from where he's seated at their rackety old kitchen table. "You'll get over it, it's not the point, Liam", he says impatiently. "I got his spunk off the doorframe, really, you can't see a thing".

"You got his WHAT?!" Liam asks in distress, all flailing arms and tense muscles. Louis would find those attractive, he would, but Harry. "I WALK THROUGH THAT DOOR ON A DAILY BASIS!"

"Yes", says Louis calmly. "And you will walk through that door again, what's the issue? What if I did this thing on a regular basis and you didn't know, huh?"

"Except that wouldn't happen, because you're so in love with how sex makes you feel, so you wouldn’t ever shut up about it", Liam shoots back knowingly.

Louis hates him for knowing him so well. Really, can he not?!

"You're still missing the point", he mutters crossly.

"No", says Liam. "The point is that you will be shagging and thus not shutting up about this equally shameless bloke for weeks. I definitely got the point, and I'll make a point of buying earplugs".

"Harry" Louis corrects him, disregarding the rest of Liam's sentence. "Harry Styles, actually". He takes Liam's completely blank stare in before he adds, "sounds like a porn star name" in contemplation.

"He does sound like a porn star", Liam nods. "Could warrant some research, actually", he says, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"You're straight", Louis reminds him sternly. "There will be no researching him, thanks". His affront has Liam laughing against the refrigerator. "Well there's a possibility that he's into girls. Which would make straight porn an option".

"No", Louis says pointedly, crossing his arms for good measure. "No, no he's definitely gay". He doesn't like the slight twinge in the gut this conversation is giving him.

"You're jealous", Liam points out, delighted. "You are, you're like jealous, and I haven't even done anything!"

Louis feels like he's been caught stealing cookies off the top shelf, only they were his cookies to begin with.   
"I am protective", he corrects his friend. "I don't like to share".

"That's funny", says Zayn, materialising in the doorframe with Niall in a tow. "Because you always share, what's with the change of heart?".

"Louis' seeing a pornstar", Liam replies before Louis can.

"Oh?" Zayn perks up. "Can I have a go?" 

Louis knows this is just Zayn being an arse, because Zayn is a bit too gone for Niall to ever have eyes for anyone, which Louis is decidedly not jealous of, for the record. It still hits home though, and he can't help from seeing red for a second.

"No!", he says resolutely. There will be no trying anything with this one. I found him, he wanted me and he's mine. If Niall's not satisfying your needs, then that's not my issue, and fuck you if you make it that way by going after my bloke".

After that, it's like a spirit's been through and withdrawn their abilities to speak. In the quiet, Louis gets the impression that he's breathing like an angry rhinoceros, while six sets of eyes are staring at him as if he's sprouting a finger out of his head. He shifts a bit under it, doesn't really know what to do with himself, because why are they staring at him like that?

"Wow", Niall says then, shaking his head like this is an unbelievable turn of events.  
"Wow – you – wow".  
"You fancy him", says Liam then, and Louis' face turns into a grimace.  
"I – fancy – Really, Li we're not twelve anymore", he mutters, because he really doesn't like that word. He's appreciative, he thinks. He's appreciating this perfectly wonderful new thing he's found, and yes, maybe he's basking in the fact that this seems like it's mutual. And so what if he doesn't want other people appreciating what's his? He's allowed, he's sure.  
"Maybe not, but that's as good a word as any, mate", Zayn says with a pat to his shoulder. "Bring him over sometime, if you're going to be all moony eyed over someone, I wanna see it".

Louis shakes his head no. "I – maybe later". He says and – well this is new. This is foreign. He doesn't ever hide things from his friends, try as he might. But this is different. It's private, and he doesn't know what he's doing exactly. Not yet, at the very least. He doesn't want to bring something so... Fragile into their group only for everyone to watch it break. He loves his boys, he does, but he doesn't think he could do that to himself.  
"I wanna –", he starts, looks down at his shoes, because they probably won't judge him for this. "I want to get to know him a bit first, yeah?"

"Oh my god", Liam exclaims next to him. "You're – you're serious about this then?" This is Louis' cue to play it off, he thinks. To say 'course not, how dim are you", and get himself a beer from the fridge. It's also the very last thing he wants to do. Maybe he is serious, because maybe it was so good that he doesn't want this turned into dust by week six. He's had "relationships". He's been "boyfriend" a few times since his teens. But nothing really lasted, nothing really meant anything. And the ones that did, he ruined by himself because if he ruined it intentionally, then there would at least be some level of control to the outcome. He's never felt like anyone was worth letting go for, has always been too scared of how much hurt can actually burn and sting and destroy. So he understands the reaction he's being met with. He just kind of wishes they'd leave it be. It's not like he's looking to marry or anything. He – it would just be really lovely if Harry stayed around for as long as Louis wants him to. And if that would turn out to be forever then that's perfectly fine too, honestly.

"I am serious, yes". He says, though, talking to no one in particular. "That was definitely just sex and maybe that's all there'll ever be, but I'll take what I can get as long as it's from him". He swallows hard afterwards, like this is an important moment in his life (by Liam's standards, it definitely is).

By some miracle, they don't mention it for the rest of the night. Niall nods approvingly at him from time to time, though, and Zayn offers him another pat. And before he goes to his room, long after Niall and Zayn are passed out in a pile of entangled limbs and clothes on their sofa, Liam squeezes his shoulders in a good on you, type fashion. 

Louis' too drunk to stand up straight but it gets the point across all the same.

000

"You are a child"

Louis throws the accusation across Harry's living room as Harry comes into view with a bowl the size of a football of Frosties in his hands. 

"Frosties was the essence of my childhood, I am simply reminiscing", Harry retorts and sits on top of him like he's not got a meter worth of sofa left. Somewhere back in his head, Louis registers that this probably isn't normal in a purely sexual relationship. "You are jealous", he punctuates his statement with a poke to Louis' nose. It's not supposed to tingle pleasantly, Louis decides. But pleasant is pleasant, and Louis likes it, so no harm done. 

"Hello", he says brightly, pulling his arms around Harry's torso. Harry leans into his touch, sighing.   
"You're a bit warm", he informs Louis before a scoop of his frosted cornflakes. "Like a quilt, but like, I'm sitting on it".  
Louis snorts into his shoulder. "That's just weird", he says.   
"Hey", Harry protests, but he's smiling through it so Louis doesn't think him offended. "Quilts are comfy".  
"Does that mean I'm comfy?" Louis asks hopefully.   
"Well I could think of other positions in which I could be more comfortable..." Harry says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.  
"Are you trying to get me naked?" Louis asks. Partly because he really wouldn't mind, partly because he would really love to get that wide-eyed, fourteen- year old - look back on his face again.  
"Yes", Harry confirms with a vigorous nod. "Yes, I like you naked".   
"Oh", Louis replies, eyebrows raised in mock intrigue.   
"Yes" Harry repeats, and sets his breakfast down on the makeshift coffee table. "In fact", he draws out, tugging at the collar of Louis' T-shirt. "You don't really need that". He gets it over Louis’ head while grinning in a way that turns Louis' stomach into a whirlwind nervous sensations, runs his hands up Louis torso, just feeling him. Louis hums pleasantly because yes, this is already perfect.  
"Are you going to be naked too or are you making me get my kit off for your eyes' entertainment only?" He asks as Harry's fingers fumble with his zipper.  
"Well" Harry drags his trousers off best as he can while Louis' a deadweight on the sofa. "I was actually going to take lots of pictures for my own pleasure, for when you're no longer here".  
Louis watches silently as Harry's hand comes down to brush him in his underwear in one firm stroke, closes his eyes when he feels him through the fabric.   
"I could just stay around all the time", he offers in a whisper, lays his head on the armrest with his eyes still closed. Harry's touch is a velvety rhythm against his tingling groin.   
"Yeah, I like that", Harry breathes against his ear, leaving a featherlight kiss on his earlobe. It's so intimate and delicate and it leaves a pleasant warmth in its wake that just grows within him as Harry mouths along his jawline. "You should stay here", Harry mumbles against him, finds Louis lips with closed eyes and presses against him, all strong arms and reassurance.   
"Yeah", Louis agrees between kisses, lets his hands roam across Harry's strong back while he pecks at his neck. 

This is so much better than sex, he thinks. There's need, yes, but it's satisfied. And at the same time it's not. He wants so much more, but he's so content and as Harry aligns their bodies and grinds slowly against him, it's sweet, sweet pleasure and Louis wants him so much closer, right now.

He locks his legs around Harry's back; a hand tangled in Harry’s hair, pulls him closer and lets Harry move against him. He can feel Harry's erection against his own, moans appreciatively as Harry starts rutting against him. Everything burns pleasantly, and he thinks he's never felt more alive.

And if there's one thing he's sure of, it's that Harry can never leave. Not when he's given Louis a taste of this, not when he's so sure of what he wants for once. He strips Harry off his clothes, presses kisses to every expanse of skin he can reach.

It's just a shared handjob and an hour lost in lips, tongue and heat. But fuck it, if it's not the best part of Louis' week so far.

000

"I'm confused".  
"Good, that means we're on the same page.

The thing that Louis prides in himself, is that, with a little determination, he can always make someone feel the same way as him. It's like empathy, he thinks, only he does the feeling for them. He's spent a solid hour talking Liam into the same confusion he's trapped in right now, and it's nice because at least he isn't alone.

He thinks if he ever put his mind to it, he could trick a person into feeling exactly what he's feeling for another person, but he's not that masochistic, and he's also a bit too selfish to ever have the urge to try. Still it's nice to have Liam understand him at all times.

"You like him, but you also don't" Liam asks slowly.  
"Well I like him, obviously", Louis elaborates with an eye roll. "I just don't know how much, because I feel so differently all the time so it's impossible to know what I feel and I hate him so much because I'm so confused".   
Liam nods in understanding, does that shoulder squeeze thing for the fifth time today (really, is that all his mum taught him about comforting?) "I fear that the possibility of you falling for him has presented itself", he informs sympathetically.

"That's impossible", Louis protests quickly. "Because I don't fall", he explains slowly, "And because it's only been like two weeks, I'm sure that's not how it goes".  
"Stranger things have happened, Lou", he gets back. And well, that's frustrating, because he doesn't know anything about falling for another person.  
"Why is it so hard for my brain to just be content with a bit of action from time to time. I didn't sign up for these feelings", he complains.

Liam puts an arm around him and rests his head on his shoulder. 

"And SINCE WHEN DO DIMPLES MAKE MY STOMACH TWIST ALL FUNNY?!" Louis exclaims frustratedly.

Liam doesn't answer the question, or even squeeze his stupid shoulder. He just mutters something about being blind, or whatever. Louis doesn't care, just privately wishes for Harry to be next to him on this old, twisted duvet on the heated bathroom floor.

000

"So", Harry says as he drops their used condom into the bin they thought far enough to place right next to Harry's bed.  
"So?", Louis asks next to him, attempts to lick him playfully. He gets at his throat and hears Harry's breath hitch a bit. It's wonderful, to be able to do this. Even when they're blissed out and so finished from a round of perfect rough sex, he can still press at these buttons and it's like when he stumbled into the door an hour earlier all over again. He can get Harry all giddy, and handsy again if he wishes, because it's like Harry can't get enough of him. And Louis can't get enough of him either so that's also kind of perfect. A lot of things about Harry are perfect, and that's scary because until he met Harry, nothing ever was.

"So", Harry mumbles, "Did you ever, like, have a boyfriend?"

Louis tenses where he's lying underneath him, and he feels Harry tense in response. It's a harmless question, really, it's just, when Louis was boyfriend, it was nothing like this. And that throws him off, because boyfriend's supposed to be the highest rank at his age, so what is this supposed to be, if this means so much more than that?

"Sorry", Harry says, his eyes wide and apologetic. "S'not important, I was just a bit curious -"  
"No", Louis cuts him off, strokes his arm to calm him down. "No it's – I'm being stupid".  
He takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "I've had boyfriends, yeah", he admits. "They didn't mean that much though". He goes for light hearted, but Harry sees through it, his thumb caressing a line into his cheek.  
"I've never had anything like you and me", Harry admits, before rolling to rest at his side.

It's been six weeks, now, and it's the scariest thing Louis' ever heard him say.

000

By week eight, Louis decides that he's ready for Harry to meet the boys. Harry'd asked once, and Louis'd tensed up, and that was apparently everything Harry needed to know. He'd let his lips roam Louis from head to toe, ran his hands along his limbs and until he was relaxed, and wonderfully warm like Harry always makes him. He thinks he forgot his friends' names for a while there, and it's not until hours later that Louis can remember understanding that that was the point of the distraction, probably.

It's still scary that Harry can make him let go without his consent.

But friends are friends, and since there's no label to what Harry and Louis are, Harry gets to meet his friends. Because Harry is a friend and friends are allowed to meet other friends, and all that. He's still so confused, because he can't figure out what they are. They're acting like boyfriends, he reminds himself, but Louis remembers his past boyfriends and they weren't Harry, so that can't be it.

The boys are delighted, though, which is good. And it's a bonus that Harry fits seamlessly into their group after about half an hour. Scary even, but then maybe that's how it's supposed to be. Maybe Harry's supposed to be this great thing disguised as a giant, horrible obstacle that's there to make Louis show what he's got. Like that Dragon in Shrek, that's supposed to be the scariest thing known to the world, and befriends and protects any friend of Donkeys' because she's in love. 

Louis tries not to think about how that would make him the one thing Harry loves more than anything, because Louis doesn't want to get that lucky.

"Have you lived here all your life?" Niall asks Harry with half a slice of pizza in his mouth. Louis never understands how he can talk around that much food.  
"I used to live in this village before, actually", Harry says, stretching his legs so that they're on top of Louis'. Louis separates his and lets Harry snake his feet into the creases, and just like that they're entwined. "Tiny, it was", Harry goes on. "I'll take you there someday, we could make a weekend of it"

"I'm in", Zayn says, curling into Niall with a peck to his cheek like he always does when sleep is getting to him. Louis gives Harry's feet a squeeze. They can't be like Niall and Zayn just yet, but Louis would be lying if he said he doesn't want to get there. He feels Harry draw something on his thigh with a toe. Louis stretches out and smiles brightly into a pillow because he's ninety per cent sure that, that was a heart Harry drew.

He thinks back to that first time in the cafè, and yeah, they're still a bit ridiculous, he reckons.

000

The next week marks the two-month anniversary of this thing Louis really doesn't like to label. Harry comes in to the shop the day of and lets Louis thrust into him in the back room after closing time. It's probably celebratory, but then again there's nothing to celebrate if they're not calling it anything. 

Still, Louis' offered to fuck Harry in the back countless times, and he can't get around that it must mean something that Harry chose this day to come in, after all.

000

Another month goes by and Harry's just as present as ever. Liam points out that he's maybe a bit too present even, because he's getting tired of having to knock on every door in the flat he pays half the rent of. He walked in on Harry and Louis against the washing machine week ten, and that's when he developed the habit of knocking. Louis thinks him and Harry are showing admirable restraint when Harry's around though. For one, they very rarely fuck when Liam or anyone else is in the flat. It's true, they could. It's not like they're entirely new to the prospect of people possibly walking by (there was that first time against the glass door, after all), it's really just out of courtesy for everyone else. Really, Louis feels so courteous he's almost offended they haven't bought him a cake as a thank you yet.

It's nice, this thing with Harry. Amazing, actually. And Louis wants so much more. They still don't kiss in front of the others if they can help it. Sex is fine, Louis would be so much more okay with having sex in front of his friends, than showing the teensiest bit of affection for Harry in front of them. It's a mutual understanding, and it's frustrating. Harry's too patient with him, he thinks. It's just – sexual relationships aren't new to them. All Louis' past relationships have essentially been exclusively sexual, and this was supposed to be like that too. But it's hard to make it stay that way, when Harry makes him feel so much. Louis knows this is what his friends have been waiting for, that this gives them a license to say, "I told you so". What's more, it makes it a hundred times easier to fuck this up. Louis would rather eat worms than destroy the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him in his life.

"You're great together", Liam tells him one day over breakfast. "He makes you great".

Louis can't help it when he smiles into Liam's shoulder and thanks him quietly. Liam turns in his seat and gives him the tightest hug they've shared in years.

"M' really happy for you, Lou", he whispers into Louis' shirt.

In that moment, Louis' really happy for himself too.

000

"You really don't have to go". Harry breathes against Louis' lips. "Like ever. You can stay in bed with me forever". Louis giggles in response, slots their lips together for the millionth time this morning. He gently drags Harry on top of him, running his hands up Harry's shoulders and neck, nails scraping against the scalp when he reaches Harry's hair. Harry presses harder against him, his tongue flicking past Louis' lips with assumed permission. Louis lets Harry control the pace, too lazy and content to do anything but just enjoy this boy and his body against Louis' own.

The sex is great, and Louis loves giving just as much as receiving, but mornings like these are at a different level. Harry can bend him over the counter and snap his hips furiously until they're both exhausted, press at all of Louis' buttons until he finally gives in and offers Louis toe-curling, burning, white-hot orgasms, and he never gets tired of it. But Louis still prefers this to all of that. That first time in the café, he'd thought that sexed-out Harry was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. This is better still. Nothing ever beats the smile that grows on his face when he opens his eyes and realises he woke up next to Louis. Like Louis' the sole person he wants to wake up next to for the rest of his life.

Louis hopes that's true, because he doesn't want to wake up next to anyone else for the rest of his days.

"No I'll stay", he says, feels Harry's hand move down between them as Harry attaches his lips to his throat.

Louis huffs out an appreciative sound, one that's reserved for moments like these. Playful and happy, and yes please.   
"Question", Harry says from his stomach area, surrounded by bruises with various arrival dates. "Are you always half- hard for me?" he wiggles his eyebrows, pointing at Louis' semi. Louis flushes bright red, because it's a bit embarrassing really.  
"You're naked", Louis informs him. "On top of me", he adds. "What do you expect".  
"Are you implying my irresistibleness?" Harry grins widely.  
"No", Louis denies. "No, absolutely not".  
"Oh", says Harry, gets up from between Louis' legs. "So you wouldn't mind if I fucked off and left you naked and hard and alone".  
Louis laughs throatily. "I'm sure I'd manage. I could do with a wank, actually. Ain't had one in ages"  
Harry's eyes turns to slits as he surges forward and traps Louis' wrists in his hands.  
"You'll do no such thing", he growls, sucks at an expanse of Louis' throat until Louis can't but whimper underneath him. He soothes the mark over with a swipe of his tongue. "That cock is mine".   
"It's attached to me though", Louis reminds him. Harry shakes his head. "You're not allowed to touch it unless I say so", he says sternly. "Like during phone sex. Phone sex is okay".   
Louis giggles ridiculously at him. "You're stupid", he says fondly, pecks him on the lips.   
"Your stupid Harry, though", Harry says with a headbutt to his cheek.

Louis' so overcome with emotions that he almost doesn't notice how Harry takes him in his fist and starts pumping.

They build and build and rile each other up for ages, it feels like. Because it's Sunday and they've got plenty of time. But when Harry keens out a desperate please, Louis underneath him, Louis can't resist him anymore. He flips them over on the bed, searches blindly for the lube on the floor. He slicks himself up while Harry works on himself, like he's too impatient to even wait for Louis to do that for him. It's one of those things that Harry does that make Louis go red-hot with desire for him. 

When Louis moves into him, Harry groans so perfectly that Louis has to hide his face in Harry's shoulder to keep from crying or something. It's still too much that Harry seems to want him ten times more than anyone else ever did. He fucks him slowly, holds Harry's face in his hands and traps their mixed moans between locked lips. He sucks on Harry's lower lip, scratches at the base of his neck as he pushes in, bites slightly, tugs at a curl as he pulls out.

When he comes, Harry comes too. He bites at Harry's collarbone as Harry arches off the bed and they shiver and shake through the climax together. 

When they're sweaty and spent upon the mattress, Harry runs a hand through Louis' hair.  
"I love you", he says surely, like there's no getting out if it for Louis.

Louis closes his eyes at the devastating sting of his eyes as he kisses Harry in response. It was the one thing Harry wasn't ever allowed to say.

000

"Louis, what's wrong"

Liam picks up on the mood the minute he steps into the living room. Louis' been sat staring at the wall, waiting for someone to come in so he can let this out. He refused to cry alone so this is his only option. And Liam’ll understand, he thinks. Liam always understands.

"Liam", Louis says, voice already shaking with the weight of the unshed tears he can feel building in the corners of his eyes.

"Louis", Liam says, sits down on the sofa, legs over Louis' and sticks his arms around him loosely. "What's wrong?" he asks again.

"Harry told me he loved me", Louis whispers. "He told me he loved me, Liam".  
"Oh, Louis" Liam sighs, and yes, he does understand. That's where Louis breaks down. He can deal with feeling too much, could maybe even deal with loving Harry himself, if only he knew what it felt like, he thinks brokenly. But he can't deal with this. If Harry loves him, then it's so much easier for Louis to hurt him. To abuse his trust and his feelings and break him. Louis learned long ago not to be entrusted with fragility, so he can't for his world understand how everyone let him get this far.

"I can't do this", he sobs desperately into Liam's strong chest. It feels like he falls apart more and more for every sob that rips past his barrier. His shoulders shake where they’re trapped between Liam’s arms, painful and raw, and yet not even close to what he feels like inside. "I can't love like Harry". 

Liam fusses over him for the rest of the night. Cooks him soup like he's sick or something, wraps him up in a blanket and holds him until Louis' so tired from crying he can't keep his head straight.

The last thing Louis hears before sleep drags him under is Liam's faint telephone conversation from the kitchen.

"I don't know how to do this, Jay. I don't know how to make him understand that he loves Harry more than he's ever loved anyone else".

Louis turns in the cushions, wraps his arms around his blanket and clenches his jaw because he doesn't believe him. If Louis really loved Harry, he would have had it in him to tell Harry so back.

000

It festers in his subconscious all night. He wakes up with cold sweats, shaking with tears in his eyes multiple times, like this is a nightmare he just won't be spared of, whether he's awake or asleep. He doesn't understand why it's happening.

He's seen other people in love. Grandparents, friends of his, Niall and Zayn. People completely inseparable from one another because one compliments the other and it just doesn't feel right without that bond. People that fit like clockwork together, effortless relationships. Like him and Harry. It's always just happened with them. He would have seen it coming if only he had paid attention, so he doesn't understand how this panic has overtaken him. Because he always kind of knew, didn't he?

The day in the coffee shop is too long. He glances at the clock on the wall as he takes card payments, every time the machine connects to the telephone line. His regulars point out the differences in his demeanour, like he's got the beginnings of a cold. Louis wants so badly for this to be just that. 

But it's not a cold, just a situation that's too big for him to handle. He doesn't know how to protect someone from himself. If he weren’t so steadfast on not hurting Harry, he would hit him for making their thing this way. For destroying their perfect thing with words too big for it. He tries to distract himself with cleaning, rearranges the cake display and dusts off the area behind the espresso machine for what seems to be the first time since it was placed there.

But this is the coffee shop where it all began and Louis used a rag similar to the one in his hands to clean Harry's come off the doorframe, so there's really no point in trying. But right now, all Louis wants is to forget.

Because it's going to break. Those words are going to break them. Louis knows himself enough to know that he can't hold Harry right after this; that he's going to hesitate and think twice and be so careful from now on. And with that, it's already kind of broken. But it's probably going to take a while for Harry to realise that this is something Louis can't do. Louis' not going to tell him, because he wouldn't ever be able to stand the potential heartbreak in those eyes. He would let Harry find out for himself, let him down gently, until the worst-case scenario would be disappointment or slight fatigue. It's true it's cruel to keep someone holding on to something like that, but Louis' certain that it's the best option.

Nothing could ever be crueller than looking into someone's eyes and telling them you can't love them.

He decides to close the shop early. His manager won't know (Louis thanks the lack of CCTV in a daily basis), and honestly Louis doesn't care about him anyway. He would almost welcome a kick out the door, if only to feel something different to this. He's just finished closing his till when the entry bell rings and someone comes in.  
"Sorry, we're closed", Louis says without looking up.  
"Shit, I really needed a pick me up", says the other person, and Louis can't get around how suggestive he sounds.  
"Come again?"  
"I said I needed a pick me up", the blonde boy in front of him responds, wiggles his eyebrows for effect before he taps at the counter top. Louis feels like he's missing something important here.  
"Okay", he says slowly. "There's a Starbucks around the corner, if it's coffee you're interested in?" Blonde Guy gives him a once over, and Louis tenses under his gaze, steps to the right and hides a bit behind the cake display. Really, what's this guy's deal?  
"You know I see you in here sometimes", Blonde guy says, disregards Louis' sentence altogether and Louis actually rolls his eyes because he really doesn't have time for whatever game this bloke is playing.  
"Yes", he gestures half-heartedly at the T-Shirt with the coffee shop logo on his chest, "I work here".  
"Saw you with some other bloke in here once", Blonde guy continues casually. "Does he work here too?"

Louis' about to respond that there are no other guys working his shifts with him when he realises that the only one that ever really hangs out around here nowadays is Harry. 

"He looked like fun", Blonde Guy says, and that's when everything kind of clicks. A pick me up, Louis repeats in his head. Like for Louis to pick him up. Like he picked up Harry that one time three months ago. Louis would laugh at this absolutely piteous attempt at flirting, but Blonde Guy seems one hundred per cent serious, and it's a bit unsettling. 

Louis swallows nervously – how do you get rid of a person like this? Is there a manual out there?  
"I – erm", he begins, but he's cut off again.  
"Is that just a him thing or – ".

There are so many things that Louis wants to say, and they all come to him at once. He wants to say, "Yes, that's exactly what that is". To cross his arms and say he's not easy for it, and that the only one who ever gets it is "that other bloke you saw in here once". Admittedly, this guy is an arsehole. And he's arrogant too, for thinking he can come in and say that and get Louis on his knees for him, or whatever obscenities he had in mind. Louis' not a person you pick up on the street because you're in the mood, and he's not accustomed to advertising his sexual endeavours, exactly. It's just such a pity that this idiot happened to walk by the one time he had the potential of being seen. It also so happens that Louis doesn't want anyone that's not Harry right now. He wants to say all that, to kick Blonde Guy out the door and maybe tell him to ego down a bit, but the words get stuck when he tries.

In the end, he only gets a sentence out, and it's so very not what he should be saying right now.

"There's a room in the back", he says quietly.

And he's never felt cheaper in his life.

000

It's pointless, quick and the shittiest session of his life. Blonde Guy is all tongue and no lips and it's actually a bit disgusting. Louis gives up and works robotically on his throat after ten minutes so he won't have to deal with it anymore. This guy breathes too hard, touches him wrong and is either too stupid or too selfish to understand or give Louis what he needs and wants.

Louis' never missed Harry more than he misses him then.

He caves in at last, gets down on the floor and blows Blonde Guy. It's the fastest solution he can think of, because he refuses to fuck or be fucked by this guy, and he doesn't think a hand job is going to satisfy him. There's the option of blue balling, to kick him out like Louis should have done in the first place and walk all over his ridiculous self esteem, but Louis tries to see this as an opportunity to forget Harry for a change today. Because practice makes perfect and he'll need it when Harry leaves him.

Every time Blonde Guy moans, it's a stab to Louis' chest because it doesn't sound at all like when Harry does it, and when he comes, he groans in a way that makes Louis queasy. He dodges to the left and leaves Blonde Guy to jerk himself through his own climax while he looks down at his hands like they just betrayed him.

He hears a slam from the front door and realises he forgot to lock it. Weird. He never noticed the bell ring.

He finds it in him to get up from the bathroom tiles when Blonde Guy's hurried out the door. Louis doesn't see him out or offer him any goodbyes, just watches until he's out the door in case he was looking to take the money with him or anything like that. Louis wouldn't be surprised if it happened to him because his life is already in pieces as it is. Who's stopping it from falling apart even more?

When he reaches the door, he finds a bag of Gummy Bears in front of it. He's about to bin it because it's probably Blonde Guy's, when he notices the sticker tag stuck to the plastic. As he reads, he wants to crawl out of his own skin, realisation spreading like venom in his body at what he just did. He bites his lips so as to not cry because he's sure he's not allowed to after this.

Thought I'd get you these. Three months and all, time to start celebrating innit? Haz xx

000

Louis' still on the floor of the coffee shop when Zayn finds him, leaning against the counter with his arms wrapped around his knees like he'll never hug again. Maybe he won't after this. He doesn't have the strength to assess that just yet.

"You shit", Zayn growls at him. "You absolute, fucking dick"

"Yeah", Louis agrees, nods as he angles his head to look into Zayn's eyes. "I am such a fucking dick". His voice quivers at the last word and he swallows against the lump in his throat.   
"No, you are not allowed to cry", Zayn says harshly. Louis knows it's just his way of telling him he deserves to hurt right now. But there's so much consent eating at him now, so much guilt mixed with this pain of so definitely losing Harry now that he can't help it when his eyes flood with the impact of it all.  
"I know", he sobs, puts his face in his hands. "I'm such an idiot".  
"What the hell were you thinking" Zayn spits out, glares from where he's standing above Louis.  
"That's the thing, I wasn't thinking!" Louis exclaims, "I don't even know what was going on, I didn't even fucking want him". He feels so small under the scrutiny of Zayn's eyes. Feels like he's failing the one important test he had to pass, but he's just not got enough in him to work this out in his head an explain where his mindset went wrong.

Either way, he hurt Harry, so he also doesn't see the point. Zayn is angry, and Louis can deal with that. But the last thing he wanted was for Harry to hurt.

"He called Liam because nobody else fucking knew but you, Lou."

Louis closes his eyes and sits through another tidal wave of consent, breathes through his nose and hugs himself closer. That was his request, the secret thing. To come to terms with his sexuality, he’d lied. Harry had stroked his hair and pressed feather light kisses to his left temple. “Whenever you’re ready, Lou”.

"He wasn't supposed to know", Louis whispers, "It wasn't – I did that because I wanted to convince myself that I could want someone else when he's left", he hacks out, takes another steadying breath. His throat throbs when he tries to hold the tears back and all he wants is to let go. But he's not allowed.

"Harry's wouldn't have gone anywhere", Zayn says surely. Louis can still see the tell tale tension in his posture, but he's at least gone back to his normal tone, however cross he might still sound. "Harry was yours".

Louis shakes his head. "I can't – I can't do this. And Harry's going to realise and -", he bites at his lip, a strangled sound escaping his lips where a sob would have sounded and he blinks angrily at the tears that persistently run down his swollen cheeks. "He would have –", he tries again, looks down in defeat, lip still caught between his feet. "I can't love", he hisses out, a broken confession that no one but Liam knew of. "They always hurt".

Zayn gets down in front of him, sits in prayer position and takes his face in his hands. He's never looked angrier in his life.  
"You prick", he rumbles. "You love every day". Louis gets ready to respond, deny and explain this all over again but Zayn silences him with another glare and goes on. "You love Liam", he says. Probably because he knows Louis can't deny that. Louis loves Liam, no question marks there. "You love me", Zayn continues "And you love Niall, and you've never, ever hurt us". Louis nods again. It's true, he thinks. He's never hurt his friends, because nothing ever gave him reason to. Nothing is scary with friendship, nothing's ever too much or too strong to handle with friendship. "S'not the same", Louis says quietly.  
"You love your mum", Zayn doesn't acknowledge Louis' protest, only raises his voice to a shout. "You love the girls. You love Lottie, Fliss, Daisy and Phoebe and you wouldn't ever let anything happen to them". That's also true, Louis agrees calmly. It's true nothing gets to hurt his family. Because that's his fucking family and nobody gets a clear shot at that. Nobody touches them, hurts them, does something to them if Louis can help it because they're his and he is theirs and that's the most important thing he's ever known. But it's different too. It's family, it's not luck, he thinks. Louis didn't get lucky to happen to have a mother that loves him and sisters that do too, because they all worked for that. They made themselves that way. It's different from how Harry walked into Louis life and just happened to fucking agree and understand and fit. When he tries to tell Zayn, he refuses to see it that way.

"The hell it is, Louis!" He shouts. "It's LOVE!"   
“IT’S NOT”, Louis wails. “It’s not, it’s so uncertain”. He rubs his hands over his face again, tugs at the ends of his hair. “I’m not going to wake up one day, destroyed because I fucked up, because that’s family and friendship and it’s easy to maintain”, Louis explains. “But this – I could fuck this up so easily. And Harry could wake up one day and realise he doesn’t love me anymore, or that this was a crush or that he’s straight or – fuck”, he takes another deep breath, tries to still the tremble that’s found its way in and wrecked his voice. “Harry could just realise one day that he doesn’t want me anymore and that doesn’t ever happen with family”, he whispers, pinches a bruise into his arm because he’s so tired of crying right now.

Zayn gives him a sad look, leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead.  
“You have to take that risk though, Lou”, he tells him. “You have to be a little stupid”.  
Louis shakes his head vigorously, like this is a life and death decision. “I can’t”, he croaks past the lump in his throat.   
Zayn dips his head down and breathes slowly through his nose.  
“You were perfect, Louis”, he says with so much finality that it almost throws Louis off completely. “Absolutely perfect”.

And Louis remembers then, that before he met Harry, things never were.

000

It gets hard after that. Everything gets hard. Mostly, Louis feels like he can’t breathe. Everywhere he goes, Harry’s with him. Not in person, of course. Never in person. But in every important place, as well as the insignificant ones like the Tesco Metro around the corner, the post box across the street or that Irish Pub at the end of the road where everyone for some godforsaken reason has a Geordie accent. He’s entwined his life with Harry’s, like he used to entwine Harry’s hands in his. Braided Harry’s everyday life and his everyday life into one and he tries to remember what it was like before, he does, but he can’t because up until Harry, things didn’t really matter. Maybe it’s because, in retrospect, it all kind of fades. It’s so much easier, pleasurable to catalogue and memorize the things that made you happy, rather than the things that just were.

But right now, Louis wants to wish it all away. It’s in his way, all the time, as he tries to go about living his life. A constant, dull ache that intensifies and grows into something so much sharper and destructive when something reminds him particularly about what’s been. What he had, who he had. And then, he also doesn’t want to forget, because he doesn’t ever want to forget those moments when he was at his best. Moments where he could make someone else smile just by being there, when he meant good things, laughter and happiness to another person. But it hurts to remember, to be so aware of what’s gone amiss, what he let slip through his fingers. Everywhere he goes, is an onslaught of so much Harry that sometimes he has to stop and hide his face in his hands. Wipe at his own eyes with sleeves drawn over his hands and fingertips because it’s the softest he’s going to find.

No one is going to be as gentle as Harry when he wiped at the corners of Louis’ eyes after pointless Disney movie marathons, so he might as well do it himself. 

It takes three full weeks for him to come face to face with confrontation.

It’s not that he wanted to avoid it, it’s that he didn’t think he deserved to see Harry again. You have to fight for what you want; Louis knows that. That you’re not going to deserve something you’ve given up on. But privately, Louis thinks that no matter how much of a weight the guilt on his shoulders is, no matter the knot that’s made a home in his stomach, he’s still going to happy if he sees Harry again. And he’s decided that that’s something he just doesn’t deserve right now.

It happens in Tesco. 

Louis’ on a Dorito’s run, because he knows the Fellowship of the Ring’ll be on tonight, and nothing says movies quite like chilli powder on his fingers and Liam’s complete disregard for the magnitude of the situation when Louis’ wailing horribly about the fire in his eyes. (“It’s your own fault you never wash your hands, Lou”). So he’s rounding a corner and darting for the snack aisle, sees the last packet of Chilli Heatwave thrown about on the shelf. He goes for it, runs like it’s his last chance at life, fingers crunching the plastic where he grabs it. But he’s not the only one that does.

It’s jarring, to see Harry so close to him again. He’s looking at Louis with what Louis can only assume en equal amount of surprise as what he’s currently showing. There are drops of water stuck to his eyelids, and Louis wants to reach out and just wipe them away. Then he remembers it’s not really his territory anymore.

“I – uh”, he mumbles, suddenly desperate to keep Harry with him. He doesn’t really care that this is Tesco, with CCTV, grumpy assistants and under-fourteens that are so over living in Leyton. There’s a brief flash of something in Harry’s eyes. Louis doesn’t quite understand it, and either way he’s not given much time. Before he can say something else, or even contemplate the look in the green of Harry’s orbs, Harry’s turned around and ran for the exit.

Louis sways on the spot, mouth half open and still clutching a thing of crisps. He can go home now, he reminds himself, go home and create reasons and alternative scenarios in his head. Can sit in his room and go over Harry’s look and never really find an answer. Or he can start fighting, like he should’ve done from the start.  
His feet carry him along the same path Harry must have taken, but not before he’s stopped at the check out to get the stupid crisps.

000

He doesn’t know for how long he knocks on Harry’s door. It takes a while before he even gets into the building, but the couple from across the hall have seen him around enough to know who he is and where he’s most likely looking to go. Maybe they’ve noticed his absence over the last three weeks, or maybe he just looks like shit right now. Even as he’s been sitting outside Harry’s door for a quarter of an hour, he can still feel the tracks of his tears from when he hurried out of the supermarket. They’d opened the door for him with this shared sympathetic look on their faces, and Louis hadn’t quite known how to respond. Just smiled tightly, and swallowed against the persistent lump in his throat before turning around and raising a knuckle to Harry’s front door.

“Harry, please”, he pleads at long last. His knuckles are red where he’s knocked them against the hard wood for the past fifteen minutes, and he thinks that maybe he should just go home. Maybe Harry’s not going to let him in again. It’s the force of the pain that hits him at that option that has him borderline pounding against the door a second later. “Harry, I know you’re in there, come on”.

He thinks he hears movement, and drops his fist. The door opens at the same time as he lets a large breath go.

Louis doesn’t know how he looks, himself. But he has a general idea. And looking into Harry’s eyes – it’s like looking into a mirror. Or maybe reading a text describing exactly what your inside feels like in a particular moment. And it makes Louis ache in the strangest places, because if Harry feels like Louis does now, then he can’t even begin to explain how regretful he is. It hurts that Harry hurts because of something that shouldn’t be real in the first place.

“What do you want?” Harry demands. His tone is short, cross. But Louis knows better than that. He knows all too well what it’s like to feel like you can’t speak loud enough or you’re going to break.

Louis swallows, brings the Tesco bag between them.   
“I uh – “ he repeats, eyes trained on Harry’s socks. “Here?” he offers, unsurely.

Harry takes a look inside, snorts like he can’t believe it. “Did you – Did you just go through all that for crisps?” he asks. Louis thinks there’s fondness there, hidden somewhere behind the thickness and general fatigue in Harry’s voice. It might be easier to detect if there were eye contact involved, but Louis can’t find it in him to look at Harry’s face at all.

“No”, he admits quietly, and inhales on a gasp. He doesn’t know how to have this conversation, he realises. He’s never had to have it, not like this. Not when it feels like the most important conversation he’s ever going to have. It’s one thing to be boyfriend and go through the break up and not really care, another thing entirely when it’s the only thing he cares about right now.

“I’m sorry”, he chokes out, barely audible. He thinks if it weren’t for the fact that Harry appears to be holding his breath, it would have gone unheard. “I – “

“Why’d you do it?” Harry cuts him off. Louis’ eyes snap up to meet the other boys’ before he can be scared of what he’s going to see. It looks as if it’s the one thing Harry’s been asking himself all along.

“You told me you loved me”, Louis explains, quietly, and watches as Harry’s eyes widen with hurt. “No it – it’s not your fault”, he adds almost immediately. “Nothing was ever your fault”.

Harry swallows thickly, wraps his arms around himself. Louis aches so much to be the one whose arms enclose his waist. “I can’t love”, Louis admits, thinks he might as well get that one out in the open. “I – I can’t take care of breakable things”. 

He substitutes an impending sob with a shaky laugh. “And it’s stupid, right?” he asks no one in particular. “It’s not really as if it makes any difference”. Harry looks confused then, and Louis pinches himself in the arm to be able to keep going. “I mean – It’s not like you felt any differently before telling me –“ his voice trails off, like he can’t even say it. “But like, it felt so real, right? When you said it. Final”, he says. “Like you were so sure of it, and it’s like now you’re something fragile that I just know I’m going to drop on the floor”. He looks at his shoes, eyes taking in the sight of smeared mud and droplets of rain. Explaining this to Harry – it’s something he needs to do. But the fact doesn’t make it any easier to go through with it. “I don’t want to drop you on the floor”, he breathes, and it feels like the silliest confession he’s ever given.

“And you’re gonna forget me”, Louis whispers, wills the burn behind his eyelids to cease. “Because I’m – I’m not going to be me anymore”. He lets a shaky breath go and clenches his fists. “It’s going to fade, because I can’t keep things going”. 

Another shaky breath, he traps his thumb in his closed hand and cracks the joint.

“So, I went to work and then this dick comes in”, he says, sobers up because the memory of him still makes Louis incredulous. “Like, complete dick. And he was hitting on me and – “, his voice suddenly grows so thick, he can barely speak through it. “And you’re going to leave me and I thought I’d get used to someone not you”.

His first sob breaks at the last word, and he clenches his jaw, doesn’t want to let go just yet.

“And I missed you so much, then”, he admits brokenly. “Because this didn’t mean anything, and like, it does – with you. Because you mean something”, he sobs, and dares a glance at Harry. He’s looking at him – like, proper looking at him. And Louis can see the wetness in the corners of his eyes, as well as the white around where his teeth are sinking into his lips. “And that’s when I realised maybe I wouldn’t have broken you”, he says hopelessly. His throat is going sore where the lump sits, and is growing stubbornly. “Because it’s like you mean too much, like, I wouldn’t be careless and let you break”. His breathing is ragged as he tries to collect himself one last time, before he’s said all that needs to be said. Before he can start crying that lump away. “And then I went and did it, anyway, so it doesn’t matter” He hacks out, and closes his eyes, lets another two sobs shake his body.

When he opens his eyes, Harry’s so much closer. Impossibly close, fresh tears racing the ones running down Louis’ own cheeks. He’s breathing heavily, and the warmth collides with Louis’ lips. It’s the only way Louis can accept that he’s really here, and that close to him.

“You’re so stupid”, Harry whispers as he cradles Louis’ face in his hands.

“You’re perfect”, Louis sobs, the wetness too much for Harry’s thumbs against his skin to wipe away. “So perfect, and it scares me”.

“Shhh - ”, Harry tries to hush him, almost a whistle type of sound. But Louis merely shakes his head; he needs to get this one out too. “Nothing is, Harry, nothing is perfect – “

He’s babbling now, breathing fast, frantic. Like he’s on a schedule, and time is running out. “Like, my family, it’s the only thing I’m sure of, and now my dad’s gone, and we’re not like, united anymore and fuck it – it’s not perfect. And if that’s not perfect then I don’t see how anything else can be”.

Harry’s only nodding, like he completely understands and Louis can’t for the world see how anyone could be crazy enough to see what he sees. 

“But you are”, Louis says, finally. “You are and I’m so sorry I didn’t see”. 

His own apology sets him off again. He cries noisily into Harry’s shirt, fisting the front of it as he leaves salty tears where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder. Harry shushes him again, and this time, Louis lets him. Welcomes the strong arms around him and the circles rubbed into his back. Harry sways them both back and forth, a warm hand in Louis hair. He presses a kiss to Louis temple and Louis’ heart stutters because he wronged him, he wronged Harry and still Harry’s the one holding him, like he’s the more broken one. Like he’s not the one betrayed.

When his sobs have ebbed out and all that remains are quiet whimpers, Harry takes Louis’ face in his hands again.  
“I love you”, he says it with that same certainty he had last time and Louis’ so overcome with a need to respond that it comes out in a stutter.  
“I lo – I love you t-too” 

Harry chuckles at him then, and Louis wants to bottle and keep the fondness in his eyes forever. Harry tilts their foreheads together, and he looks like he’s proud of Louis, again, like he completely understands.  
“I love you”, he says a second time, smiles through it.  
“I love you too”, Louis replies surely. 

When Harry buries his face in Louis hair, Louis thinks he hears a giggled “There we go” against it.

000

They end up on Harry’s bed, like countless times before. From the first kiss, Louis can feel the desire in his body, white hot and urgent, and only matched by the fact that his mind wants this to last. He wants this memory to be the longest one with Harry, one that won’t end too soon. 

As their lips touch, Harry’s bottom one sandwiched between Louis’, they sigh in unison and the resulting puff of air seems like it spreads heat all along Louis’ body. He cards his hands through Harry’s curls and presses so close to him, that they both lose their balance. They fall as one onto the unmade bed and Harry drapes a leg across Louis’ thighs, flicks his tongue against Louis’ lips, and Louis greedily sucks it into his mouth. Harry’s appreciative little sound is more than enough of an incentive for Louis to snake his hand in between them and rid Harry of his shirt.

As Louis hurriedly strips Harry of his clothes, Harry attends to his throat. It’s hard to concentrate, even on something as simple as a matter of undressing another boy, when the soft heat of Harry’s lips is being pressed into his skin. Harry hums as he goes, nipping, and sucking, sweeps along his jawline, and Louis whimpers desperately as his fingers shake around the button fly of Harry’s jeans.

“You’re making it hard for me to get you naked”, Louis chokes out, manages to pop a button.

“Mmmm”, Harry giggles, sucks at Louis’ earlobe. “You make it hard for me”, he whispers, and Louis groans at the implication, his hands stopping where they’ve been struggling with Harry’s waistband. Harry seems to take it as his cue to take over, because next thing he knows, Louis’ got the pressure of Harry’s fingernails against his front, and he’s going further down, further down until he’s there. He massages Louis through his trousers and Louis could cry, he’s so hard right now.

“Please”, he breathes, “Please just - “ Harry obliges before he can even finish his sentence, pulls the material down, until only his boxer briefs remain. Then he surges forward and ruts against Louis, and Louis can’t help the moan that escapes his lips. 

But even as he’s got this delicious friction and the maddening sound of Harry groaning filthily in his ear, it’s still not enough and it almost kills him. He moves his hips frantically, holding onto Harry for dear life, as he moans loud and forbidden fuck he still needs more.

“I need – “, he gets out, his breath so ragged he can barely speak.

“Yeah”, Harry grumbles and shuffles down the bed. Louis closes his eyes and wills himself to calm down, tries to find a steady rhythm in his breathing as Harry retrieves the lube from the floor. And it comes as a shock, the sweetest kind, when he feels Harry’s lips against the head of him, before taking him all the way down, coating him in spit.

The sound Louis emits is so filthy he slaps a belated hand around his mouth. Harry grins around him, and takes him one last time. Louis’ breathing so hard, he can feel his lungs burn, blood rushing at a furious pace in his body. Harry comes up and rolls them until he’s the one on his back, and Louis’ shakily guides himself to the divide of Harry’s cheeks as he hovers above him.

“Not – careful, yeah?” Harry asks him, and Louis nods, mute. He holds his cock in place, steady, and pushes in carefully.

The tight heat is so much it makes him dizzy, at first. His lets his head fall onto Harry’s tense shoulder as he whines high in is throat. He has to stay there, he reminds himself, he can’t move yet. He’s being squeezed and it’s the worst, he’s left to imagine what this would feel like, if it was all around him, and as he pants against Harry’s collarbone, he wishes for Harry to just relax around him. When he finally does, he wraps his arms around Louis’ neck.  
“Move”, he instructs, the word dripping with need, and Louis almost tears up when he drives into him, all the way, completely.

He fucks him relentlessly, Harry’s fingernails digging into the curve of his bottom, like he’s saying closer, I need you closer. 

Their kisses cease until they’re just tiny wisps of breath trapped between their lips. The needy sounds overlap each other, swallowed by the closeness of their mouths as sweat beads break out where tears ran before. Louis closes his eyes at the building coil in his stomach and goes until he can’t anymore. He explodes with a wail of Harry’s name, spills into him, his fingers grasping at Harry’s curls, and then Harry’s arching off the mattress, ropes of white bursting out of him, and Louis kisses his slack lips, where his mouth is half-open in a silent cry of pleasure.

They collapse together, utterly spent with their legs tangled awkwardly. When Louis finds it in himself to move, Harry’s previously lax arms come to hold him in place.  
“Please don’t leave”, he says quietly, and Louis raises his head, slowly to meet the glassiness of his eyes.  
“Never”, he promises and encloses Harry’s lips with his own. He lets the pads of his thumb caress the heat of Harry’s soft cheek, breath hitching with sudden emotion as he feels Harry smile into the kiss.

Never.


End file.
